Memento Mori
by Ninde158
Summary: Dominic is forced to watch as Anemone struggles with the painful reality that is her life.  But when Anemone begins to doubt her own existence, will Dominic be able to give her a reason to carry on?  DominicAnemone


_Author's Notes: I've always been a huge Dominic/Anemone fan, but until now never had a good idea for how to write them. This little one-shot popped into my head while working on some of my other fics though and I just had to try it. Please read and review, let me know what you think! I'm new to this fandom and a bit anxious to see what you guys think. More Dominic/Anemone is always possible, we'll just have to see._

_Diclaimer: If something as awesome as Eureka Seven were to be given to me I'd probably explode. That said, I am fully intact, thanks very much._

**Memento Mori**

He came to check on Anemone after the nurses told him that she'd gone berserk while they'd tried to administer her medicine. It was hard to blame her for reacting the way she did. Surely none of them would welcome a needle shoved beneath their chin at all-to-frequent intervals, injecting who knew what into the bloodstream. Anemone, being Anemone, reacted the only way she knew how, with the physical violence so valued by Dewey.

Indeed, every corner of her life was permeated by her assumed 'duty', there was no sector of her existence that remained untouched by the expectations of others. Dominic often wished they could stop the injections, give the poor girl a short break in the constant stream of demands.

But it was their job to do so, and it was his job to make sure Anemone complied.

The dull metal doors slid open to let him into what he privately considered Anemone's sanctuary. It didn't provide her much protection, true, but there was no other place for her to retreat to and so it had come to suffice. A quick survey of the room helped him locate the girl. She was crouched in the corner, Gulliver waddling awkwardly around her huddled form.

"Anemone?" She didn't move and Dominic moved closer, the sharp click of his heels startling her pet, who scurried for cover in the small space left between her lower torso and the wall. "Anemone, the nurses say you weren't cooperating."

The statement must have touched a nerve because the previously motionless girl exploded into a flurry of fists and knees. Dominic managed to ward off two of the more potentially painful hits, but took a solid uppercut from the right which sent him sprawling. Wincing, he covered his cheek and other vital areas, wondering how long this particular outburst would last.

"Cooperating?! I'll show them cooperating!" He absorbed another blow, this one to the shoulder, and braced for more, but saw she was tiring. Her previous tantrum must have been major for her to run out of energy this quickly.

Warily, he slid back out of the way, beating him seemed to be one of her more favored activities these days. "Cooperating?" She muttered again, giving his leg a half-hearted kick as he retreated. "Since when have I done anything but cooperate?"

"It's time for the injection." He told her, preparing for another flurry of abuse, but none was forthcoming. Instead she slumped back to the floor with what might have been a sarcastic laugh. Dominic couldn't really tell, he'd never heard her laugh any other way. Extracting the syringe they'd given him out of his pocket he slid across the floor, closing the distance between them. "Tilt your head back please."

Gulliver snuffled nervously from their left, but made no effort to move closer, aware, as Dominic was, of the volatile nature of his mistress. Anemone had apparently decided to ignore Dominic's request, remaining curled around herself. Dominic sighed.

Crawling forward on his hands and knees, he positioned himself at her left side, reaching out to grasp the back of her neck gently in his hand. Soft pink hair brushed against his fingers as he drew her head back and he allowed himself to enjoy the sensation before readying the syringe in his other hand. "Relax." He said, drawing her eyes to his.

"Don't." He halted the needle mere centimeters from the insert point. Her eyes held an emotion he'd never seen before. One which struck him as being familiar on any other countenance and yet oddly out of place on hers.

It was fear.

"I have to." He told her, unable to look away from her pleading red irises. "Dewey's orders…it's…it's good for you, Anemone."

He doubted either of them believed that.

"Right." She muttered, but it hardly sounded like consent. He slid the needle home, watching silently as her pupils dilated under the effect of the injection. Self-loathing rose up as tears appeared, tracking silvery trails down her cheeks, but neither of them spoke.

This was, after all, routine.

Once the syringe was emptied, Dominic stood, hastily concealing the offending object in one of his many pockets. He offered a hand to the girl on the floor. "I'll help you up?"

She didn't take accept, didn't move at all actually. Out of some warped sense of guilt he found himself scooping her into his arms, cradling her as gently as possible as he carried her back to the modified medical table that served as her bed. Stooping in order to lay her down he was surprised to hear her voice.

"It hurts you know."

Had she meant it as an accusation? Or merely an observation, meant to reveal to him how it felt to be her? Regardless, it hurt as much as if she'd named him as her sole torturer. Because, in the end, wasn't he the one who allowed this to continue? Who allowed Dewey to play with her as if with a puppet?

"What does?" He asked desperately, feigning ignorance for the cameras. For his conscience.

"Everything."

What could he offer her? What peace could he give that hadn't already been wrung from him by this long and terrible conflict? Desperately wishing he had more to offer, he settled for reaching out to brush aside the long tangled strands that lay across her brow. It was a mother's touch, a brother's, a lover's. It was everything he wished she had, all that he wanted to give her.

In the end it was hardly anything at all.

And yet, under his touch she relaxed, closed her eyes and seemed to forget about the strange maze that was her life.

He stayed there until she slept.

* * *

The next time Dominic saw her she was unconscious on a cot aboard a moving transport ship. The pilot rapidly shuttling them from the aftermath of the recent battle to a medical unit which Dominic assumed was being prepped for the incoming casualties.

He'd watched the entire battle from the safety of the bridge, had listened as her enthused, enraged shouts became weaker and more uncertain. Had cried out involuntarily when her LFO had been tossed to the side by her important like so much garbage, reduced to a monstrous heap of metal on the side of the road. His empathy earned him the amused glances of his fellow officers and the glare of his commander. It couldn't be helped though. Only he understood what was gambled every time she launched.

He wondered if, in Anemone's position, the others would be as willing to sacrifice all that she did.

Now, crouched at her side, he worried over the abrasions on her face and neck. She wouldn't scar, thankfully, but the cuts would sting like hell when they were sanitized. Unbidden, memories of Anemone as a child sprang to his mind, as vivid as the day on which they were recorded. He remembered being eight years old, approaching her bedside with tray after tray of food.

He remembered naming her.

"Do…Dominic." Her voice brought him back to the present and he leaned forward immediately, adjusting her blankets, fussing with the IV.

"How are you feeling?" His hands worried over a particularly nasty laceration high on her cheek bone. "You've been unconscious for the past twenty minutes, we're in a transport on the way to the medic station."

"The LFO?"

"Gone. Don't worry about that now." Knowing the reason for the deepening lines in her forehead, he sought to reassure her. "Dewey knows that you and the LFO are an even match."

"It doesn't matter." She turned her head away. "I failed."

"You shouldn't think like that." He said, lamely, unable to supply her with just _how_ she was supposed to be feeling instead.

They rode in silence for several minutes and Dominic wished they'd hurry up and _arrive _already. Anemone was losing blood, and though it could be replaced he would much rather that she kept most of it in her body. Grabbing a compress off of the shelf behind him, he applied it to the deep gash on her cheek, ignoring her protest of pain.

"Damn it, it hurts!"

"I know." He replied, reminded of her statement from earlier. "Let me help."

* * *

They allowed him to visit her in the hospital room after she'd been bandaged. He did so with a false smile on his face, unwilling to let her know how much he detested hospitals and the doctors who filled the hallways.

"You look much better." He told her, sinking into the chair next to her bed. "The doctor said they'll release you this afternoon, barring any complications."

She regarded him silently, before nodding at the blossoms he held in his hand. "You brought me flowers."

"I thought they'd cheer up the room a bit." He stood, walking to the tall cupboard in the corner. "I'll see if they have a vase."

"Dominic?" He turned.

"What?" She lay on the bed, pale and still, her hair and eyes a startling contrast to the pallor of her sheets. The sheer vulnerability of the moment unsettled him.

"Do you believe in life after death?"

His breath whistled out of him. The afterlife was beyond him, a possibility he simultaneously clung to and shied away from. Certainly he hoped it existed, he was a fool to not hope for a kinder world than the one he currently inhabited. It was nonetheless a topic he avoided. For Anemone to mention it terrified him, because it meant she'd begun to give up on life. Had begun to seek for what came after.

Others would be happy to send her there, he knew. But if Dominic had anything to say in the matter, he wasn't about to let her move on so quickly.

"Why do you ask?" He managed, willing her to forget this, to _live_.

She fixed him with a woozy grin, how much of it was due to the sedatives they'd administered he didn't know. "If there's an afterlife, I hope you're there with me."

Oh.

Vase forgotten, he strode to her side, leaning down so they were nose to nose. "Listen to me." He said with forcefulness that was unusual for him. She seemed to sense this as well since her expression cleared just a bit, red eyes watching him closely.

"I'm with you for as long you'll let me stay." He told her solemnly, his hand rising once again to rest tenderly at her hair line. "So don't go wishing away this life for the next one, because we've both got a lot left to do. Understand?"

She nodded.

"Good." Sinking back into the chair, he once again began the rhythm, stroking her tangled hair back from her face. "Now rest." He told her, watching the stress lines recede under his ministrations.

He stayed there until she slept.


End file.
